Elegance
by Luchia13
Summary: After quite possibly the worst days of his life, Wufei finds one Treize Khushrenada, and a book, In Search of Elegance, all resting neatly in HIS chair. Romance ensues. AU. 5x13x5, 1x2, 4x3.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is an AU focusing on the rather weird relationship between Wufei and Treize. I have to say I was surprised with the absence of fic for what I think's one of the most fun slash couples to write.

**Contains established 1x2, 4x3(yes, Q's on top), unrequited 5+2, and _definite_ 5x13(x5).**

And no, Baltimore isn't about to approve gay marriage, so if you live in Baltimore, forgive me. (I just like the city, is all.)

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, I GET NOTHING. (TPS reports are from Office Space. I don't own that either.)

Warnings: Uh, the usual. Yaoi, although it'll be more shounen-ai, but hey. Profanity and all that. Sheesh. You guys oughta know what to expect.

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Elegance

Chapter 1

x---x

Wufei hated Thursdays.

Wednesdays were acceptable, albeit tedious in the office and extended in the night. He wouldn't claim by any stretch to be a party animal, but Fridays were a heavenly day of rest. Saturdays- his favorite- were a peaceful day of contemplation with the intelligent silence of black words in a good book. Sundays were an ominous sunrise. Mondays and Tuesdays were days of work, with no time for anything else, but their own steadfast reassurance.

But Wufei _hated _Thursdays.

Today was an excellent example of why. He'd woken up at 8 AM when he needed to wake up at 7. He'd burned his toast into the likeliness of pumice. The subway had left as soon as he'd stepped onto the platform.

When he finally DID manage to make it to the office, Po was waiting for him, arms crossed and glaring in her receptionist swivel chair. "Every Thursday, Chang. Every Thursday you're late with some lame excuse."

Wufei had glared. "Thursdays and I don't get along very well."

She'd snorted, motioning a thumb into the office. "Yuy's been asking for you all day. He's about to kill someone."

"When isn't he?" he muttered dryly and trudged into the room, setting his singed briefcase in his cubicle. Why singed? _Last_ Thursday, he ended up in a burning building. But, as soon as Wufei dropped into his chair, a familiar head had popped in.

"Happy Thursday, Wuffles!"

His eyebrow twitched. The other annoying thing about Thursdays was the fact Duo Maxwell took over the boss' secretarial work for the day. "My name is Wufei."

The man with the long brown braid chuckled. "It's just fun to watch your eyebrow twitch." His black-covered body bounded into the cubicle, grinning and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He leaned on the bare side of the pseudo-office. "Anyway, Heero needs to see you. Said it was something about your TPS reports."

Wufei snorted. "Not funny, Maxwell. What's he really want?"

Duo shrugged. "Hell if I know. A threesome?"

And Wufei had proceeded to choke from the mere thought. For, as everyone had learned the first Thursday Duo had come in, Heero was rather possessive of his fiancée. Hilde Schbeiker, ex-employee, had run out screaming after Yuy had heard her flirt with Duo and taken immediate action. And of course, Duo had yelled at his then-boyfriend and Heero had yelled back and the door to Heero's office had been shut quite soundly, but regardless some rather inappropriate noises got out a few minutes later.

So no, that was probably not the reason Heero wanted to see him.

Duo, however, was busy snickering. "Just get there fast, Wu. He's either nervous or jealous, and you know how he gets."

"Who doesn't? He threw a delivery boy out the window when they gave him the wrong sandwich," Wufei muttered dryly.

"Aww, that's just a rumor," Duo grinned. "It was a donut, and the kid was asking for it."

Wufei couldn't help but chuckle, getting up out of his chair again as his friend scooted out of the cubicle, politely letting him have enough room to leave.

Yes, friend. The torture of Thursdays was not the fact he hated Duo Maxwell (far from it), but the fact the idiot drove his hormones crazy, and every Thursday he got to see how perfect the couple were for each other and how he could never even hope to be like that with anyone, let alone Duo Maxwell. Heero and Duo had gone to college with him, all of them majoring in business. Heero and Duo were put in the same room, Wufei was given a single room, and one thing led to another. The two hit it off, fell in love, and yet again Wufei was stuck with a trapped heart and an empty room.

But, of course, it was on Thursdays that he had to feel that bitter soreness in his chest.

And Wufei HATED Thursdays.

"If he gets too annoying just walk out," Duo shrugged, misunderstanding the sudden storm cloud over him.

Wufei frowned. "He's my boss."

"And you're one of our best friends, too," he winked, and playfully pushed him towards the corner office. "Now get moving. He's been antsy-brooding all day."

Gathering up his usual scowl, he did as instructed, even though he couldn't help but feel the apprehension that came with being called to a jealous Heero Yuy's office (since nervous could be practically ruled out). When Heero wasn't happy, neither was anyone else…well, aside from Duo. And since it was on a Thursday, this was obviously going to either be a demanded requiting of his love for Duo, or being fired.

He was hoping for the firing, honestly.

The glass door's handle jiggled as it opened, and brilliant blue eyes flashed up to him. "Chang."

"Yuy."

Regardless of the fact they'd been friends for nearly eight years, at work the formalities stood. Subordinate and employer they remained, no matter how much Duo whined and nagged.

From the shifting in his leather chair, Wufei could tell he was actually nervous. Well, that blew all his own brooding out the window. Whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen.

"Wufei. You know both Duo and I consider you our best friend, so it shouldn't be too surprising we want you in the wedding. We were thinking best man, but couldn't decide whose you'd be. So, would you be willing to be best man for both of us?"

Wufei blinked.

"You've been engaged for how long?"

A small, fond smile broke out of his face. "Four years."

"And why are you asking now?"

Heero picked up a paper from his modestly neat desk, pointing to a specific article. GAY MARRIAGE TO BE OFFICIALLY APPROVED IN BALTIMORE stood out, highlighted in a frantic yellow. "It'll be finalized in a month, and we're planning on a wedding instead of a court ruling." He handed the paper over. "We've been engaged so long because we couldn't get married, Wufei."

Wufei grimaced. "I know. Duo gives me an earful every Thursday."

A knowing smirk filtered onto Heero's face. "He's…passionate."

He couldn't help but snort. "You'd know." He turned his face to the paper to avoid the full-out, goofy smile that always accompanied any reminder that yes, Duo was _his_.

Possessive bastard.

"Any opinion?"

His black eyes just stared at the other man. "Would it matter? You'd both drag me to Siberia just to get married."

Heero frowned. "Would you prefer it some other way?"

Wufei paused. Would he? On one hand he'd be there for his best friends, but on the other, he'd be watching the love of his life slip eternally into the bliss Wufei could never be part of.

He shook his head. "No. I'll be there." His eyes couldn't help but drift out the windows. Wufei didn't even have to look back to see his friend's questioning eyes. "I've had a bad day."

"Hn. It's a Thursday."

Before Wufei could give into temptation and start ranting incoherently, he got up and walked towards the door.

But, of course, Heero always got in the last word. "Think about it for a while. I know it would take a lot of time and effort on your part." He paused. "Take the rest of the day off."

He was out of the door before Yuy (yes, he was back to Yuy) could change his mind, leaving everything behind- singed briefcase, cubicle, and all. Including Heero and Duo. ESPECIALLY Heero and Duo. He'd leave them to their fairytale, their glass and diamond world of light and happiness and smiling Duo-

He cut that strand off hurriedly. Even if he couldn't deny it any more (hadn't been able to for nearly five years, now), he could avoid it. And if Wufei Chang was good at anything, it was what he set his mind to every hour of the day.

He found his feet going straight towards Winner-Barton Books, his usual Saturday hangout. It was owned by two men madly in love with each other who chuckled every time they saw their own store's sign. The one time he'd asked, he'd regretted it.

Trowa had gotten a hazy, goofy look in his one visible green eye, lips twitching in a restrained grin. "That's the order it was first time."

Wufei had decided to let the obscurity stand.

As the little bell tinged above the oak door, he was greeted with the familiar sight of the old-yet-new bookstore. Creaky dark wood floors were bordered by rows upon rows of books, the newer books on the left side and the oldest ones in the back right corner. The dim yet cozy lighting flickered across his tight black ponytail as he headed straight for the oldest section. After grabbing an intriguing book dated from 1923, he strode towards his faithful, familiar seat- an enormous armchair of red cloth and mahogany legs. With a sigh, he shut his eyes and fell into the chair.

Or, tried to at least. His rear end met someone's lap, and his startled eyes met equally surprised light blue in a regal face.

Wufei jumped back up, his book thunking to the floor. His eyes remained just as wide, though. "You're in my chair."

The stranger frowned, grabbing the fallen novel and holding it out. "No, this is my chair."

Wufei grabbed it. "I'm here every Thursday, and I've never seen you here before."

"I'm here every Saturday, and I've never seen you," Wufei snapped. The annoyance from his day was coming back in waves, and the man was too good a target. "I've been coming here since it opened four years ago."

The man smiled softly. "So have I."

He glared. "It's my chair."

A hand ran through elegant ginger hair, the other resting on a simple leather-bound book. "Listen, I'm not here to take your chair away from you. It's my chair on Thursdays, and it's yours on Saturdays. I don't see why there's a problem here."

Wufei's eyebrow twitched, his teeth clenching together. "Because it's MY CHAIR!"

"Shhh!" Quatre was glaring at him from the counter, and Wufei glared right back, earning another stern look and the man walking over to them. "What's your problem? This is a book store!"

"I don't see anyone else here," Wufei stated, and it was true. Unsurprisingly, there were only the three of them in the bookstore, since it was about 9:30 on a Thursday morning.

Quatre's ire was untouched. "I don't care. Quiet down, or get out." He was a vicious, stubborn blonde whenever he felt it would get what he wanted, and after four years Wufei had learned trying to argue with him did nothing. "What's got you so angry, anyway?" The man in his chair simply held up a hand to announce his presence, and Quatre rolled his eyes. "There's plenty of room for the both of you in that chair. Now stop shouting and sit down. I'm trying to balance my checkbook."

The ginger-haired man smiled pleasantly up at him. "I'm not opposed to compromise every now and then." He scooted to the right side of the chair, leaving plenty of room for Wufei. "Please, sit. It sounds like you've had a rough day."

The other man snorted and sat, leaving a couple inches between them. "Rough year, more like it." He cracked the book open and turned to the cover page.

"You won't like that one," the man observed, and Wufei snapped the book shut, glaring.

"Now you're dictating my likes and dislikes?"

The chair thief smiled winningly. "No, just making an educated observation. It's a romance, all anxiety and no plot, written for a teenage reader or a depressed housewife, someone that needs a good dose of bad escapism." He pulled a book from the nearest shelf without standing up, and Wufei couldn't help but envy the man's longer arms. "Try this one."

Wufei glanced at the cover, then stared at the man incredulously. "_Pride and Prejudice_?"

"It's a classic." A wry smile bloomed on the man's face. "Or would you prefer some-"

"9:50, Treize!" Quatre's call jerked the ginger-haired bandit out of the chair, sending Wufei to the floor in the process.

"Forgive me," he said sincerely and held out a hand, but Wufei just glared and stood up, putting his life's study of martial arts to work and rising by himself in one fluid motion. The man- Treize, apparently- paused for a moment, then nodded. "Goodbye, then."

"Bye," Wufei stated, sitting back down in the chair, seemingly disinterested.

With a nod, Treize strode over to the door and walked out, regal to a seemingly impossible degree. He couldn't help but watch the man stroll outside the window, his casual demeanor somehow…hypnotic.

"So…what do you think?"

Wufei jerked to the side, seeing a grinning Quatre to the left of his chair. He glared. "He stole my chair."

Quatre laughed. "It's MY chair. You two just get to use it." He grinned. "Now stop avoiding the question. What do you think of him?"

"Why does it matter?" Quatre's face began the shift from the usual happy-Quatre to pissed-and-scary-Quatre, so Wufei wisely changed tactics. "I'm not interested."

"You sure? He's hot. And single."

Wufei glared. "I do not wish to discuss this any further, Winner."

"Ah." Quatre nodded sagely. "Still hung up over Duo, I see."

Wufei glared, but managed to keep from punching his friend. The memory of the morning was still boiling his blood. "Shut up."

Quatre was a manipulative little bastard, but he was also a well-meaning one, and smart enough to see when to back down. "I'm sorry, Wufei," he apologized. "I just want to help you."

Wufei was tired, and his nerves were already worn thinner than thread. All he wanted to do was grab a book and relax. He leaned back into the chair, eyes slammed shut and scowling. "Then leave me alone."

The blonde complied quietly, setting the book that rested on the chair into his friend's hands and returning to his checkbook.

When he reopened his eyes with a sigh, he noted the book. It was the same simple leather volume the chair thief had been holding, no title on the front. Intrigued, he opened to the title page.

In Search of Elegance T. Khushrenada 

He couldn't help but snort. It sounded like the sort of snooty book a guy who liked _Pride and Prejudice _would read. Deciding to give it a chance, he opened to the first page, and began to read.

_I find a sort of humble solace in writing these words, and seeing the blank pages which follow this page. It gives me a sense of future. A sense of purpose, if you will._

_But, dear reader, I hope you will forgive my current dreary outlook on life. It simply seems that since Leia died, the certainty of my existence has vanished. There is no more beauty. No more grandeur. No hope._

_Now, do not make the easy mistake of believing I loved her._

Wufei couldn't help but blink at the page.

I believe, in a way, we could have grown to love one another. But what's done is done, albeit bitterly, and it is useless to think of lost possibilities. (Although my apparent wisdom and logicality is useful at times, it holds no comfort for me.) She is lost to the world, and we, the dregs, remain.

_Perhaps I am going about this the wrong way. _

"Really now," Wufei muttered dryly.

_There is no true way to express my feelings without giving you, dear reader, some basis to understand my seemingly befuddled mind, and heart._

_I suppose, in the long run, it began when I was born. To put it simply, my family was poor. My mother died of melanoma when I was six, and my father remained a working-class immigrant all his life, regardless of the fact he arrived in the United States at the age of five. He worked in a small little box watching the newspapers go through the presses, ensuring the efficiency of a machine that had run flawlessly since 1972. _

_Like many working-class citizens, my father was obsessed with the education of his children, and as his only child, I was also his only hope. He was determined to have me grow up to be some sort of politician or lawyer, maybe even a doctor. A career where you made a lot of money for being smart instead of strong. _

_It was an ideal he believed unreachable for himself, but from birth, he taught me everything he could. When most children were out playing on tricycles, I was doing basic mathematics and studying current events. _

_But after my mother died, he lost a part of himself. Sometimes he would simply hold me in a tight hug for hours, and others he couldn't bare the sight of me. But, somehow my parents had managed to buy an excellent life insurance plan, and after she died our family suddenly had more money than ever before, and less to spend it on._

_At nine, my father sent me to a boarding school, knowing well enough that he could teach me no more and that the public school system couldn't live up to his hopes. With a heavy heart but dry eyes, he called a taxi and sent me on my way._

_Lake Victoria Academy was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Enormous wrought-iron gates stood at attention _

"Wufei! That's not your book," Quatre jumped out of nowhere, and the book went sailing through the air, smashing into the shelves as Wufei jumped up from the chair, ready to hurt something if necessary.

"You're the one who put it in my hands!"

"I didn't know it was THAT book!"

Wufei glared. "What's so special about it?"

Quatre blinked, mouth opening a bit. "Oh." His mouth shut, and he shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just overreacting. Sorry." He smiled brilliantly. "Why don't you just take it home and finish? That way there won't be another Chair Incident today."

Wufei frowned, but pulled out his wallet.

"Oh, no need," Quatre said, brushing the money away. "I know you'll bring it back." He retrieved the book and put it back into Wufei's hands. "So where'd you get to?"

"Not very far," Wufei admitted, not even noticing how Quatre was gently ushering him to the door. "We just got to the academy's gates."

"Ooh, that's where it gets good," Quatre beamed, and finally Wufei realized he was outside the store, the windows' metal screens being lowered by a hasty Trowa, who nodded in greeting. "Well! See you Saturday, I guess."

"Hello, Wufei. Goodbye," Trowa said, and Wufei just had enough time to see Quatre bodily pull Trowa into the door before it too was covered with metal, although a telling _thunk _followed soon after.

Wufei snorted. "Kinky bastards." Without another thought, he started on his way back home.

x---x

A/N: Well, that's chapter 1. This thing has been MURDERING my muses, so hopefully I can get back to my regularly scheduled ficcage! Huzzah!

Feel free to review! Thanks for reading, and all that!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wufei does skip around in _In Search of Elegance_. It's usually rather obvious when he does if you read the narration (in the fic, not the fic-book). The book has no chapters, however, and several times in Elegance (aka the fic) Wufei will find the last page has changed. Don't worry, it's not a crazy inconsistency. The book gets added on to.

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Elegance

Chapter 2

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As Wufei walked down the final sidewalk to his apartment, the indecisive gray clouds finally decided to douse his path. Growling and glaring, he clutched the leather-bound book to his chest, cursing the fact he decided to walk instead of take the subway.

"I hate Thursdays," he hissed venomously, and managed to slide through the glass doors that heralded his apartment building. He was drenched, and the only thing that seemed to have survived unscathed was the book cradled against his body. Stomping, Wufei couldn't help but repeat the movement all the way to the elevator in a cross between a temper tantrum and a functional way to shake the water off him. "I hate Thursdays, I hate them, I hate them…" He slammed the button for floor 7, and the doors merrily dinged shut.

When he finally reached his apartment door (714, two doors to the right of the elevator), he jammed his keys in, wrenched the door open, and couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied when he slammed the door shut behind him. In well-rehearsed motions Wufei managed to discard his sopping clothing in the bathroom (tile wouldn't absorb the water and get him fined), changing into a tank top and comfortable baggy pants.

Emerging from the bathroom, the dry book he'd set on the kitchen counter loomed in his mind. He had no idea what was so special about it, what would make Quatre literally jump at him to get the leather tome out of his hands. If it was age or worth (the thing was hand-written, after all), why the hell would the blonde let him carry it home? And he'd been letting that Treize idiot read it without a care before Wufei had entered the scene…

Giving in to temptation, Wufei grabbed the book and slumped down onto the couch, turning to where he'd left off.

_As my father had instructed, I left the taxi at the immense gates, carrying my own meager luggage down the manicured drive. Although the doorman frowned at the sight of me lugging my two suitcases up to the same area at which my compatriots exited limousines, he gave me the same respectful smile and nod, motioning me towards a table set up nearby as one of the attendants took my labeled luggage to my waiting room. _

_Sitting at the table was a bored-looking blonde man who gave me all my paperwork – schedule, room number, stable assignment, and so on. With another bored wave of his hand, I was left to wander the ornate marble halls of the Academy. _

_Finding my room took almost no time, since apparently they were assigned by social status. Mine was quite literally in the basement, and although I thought the double bed and cream walls grand at the time, I know it was in fact the cheapest room in the entire complex. The walk-in closet was only so in the sense I could step inside and shut the door behind me, and the bathroom was barely any larger._

_However, it was mine, and that alone made it magnificent in my eyes. Even if it was the only room in the basement, the worth to me was_

Wufei jerked up as the phone rang, the bells shrieking him out of the book and up off the couch. In a flurry, he picked up the phone, a rushed "Hello?" breathing out of him.

"Wufei? It's Quatre."

He frowned. "Since when do you have my phone number?"

"Since I wanted it. Listen, Treize wants his book back, and I promised I'd get you to give it back to him later today."

"WHAT?!" Wufei glared at the wall, wishing it were a head of blonde hair and evil, sadistic, manipulative eyes cowering in fear.

"I know, Wufei, I'm so sorry," Quatre said, sounding utterly sincere. But, Wufei knew the man was an excellent actor. "I'll take you out for dinner, okay? I'll even pay."

"And Trowa would be okay with that?" There was something strange going on here, and he didn't like it one bit.

Quatre's silvery laugh came over the line. "Of course he is! Why wouldn't he be? Besides, he'll be coming too. How does meeting at the store at 7 sound, and dinner at Opal around…7:30?"

Wufei blinked. "Opal? But that's fancy."

"I've got the money for it," Quatre said, dry but amused.

He shrugged, forgetting he was on the phone for a moment. "Just don't expect me to be polite."

"Oh, I'd never do that," Quatre said innocently. "See you then, Wufei."

With a defeated sigh, Wufei hung up…and his eyes yet again rested on that strange book.

What was so special about the thing? It seemed like a normal book to him so far…maybe deeper in those pages was something more?

He re-read the first page again, and decided this Leia person would be an excellent place to start. With an easy plan of attack, Wufei dove back into the book, glancing over the pages and trying not to read that intriguing script that spun through the bound white papers.

After skimming for almost half an hour, he was a third of the way through the book and found what he was looking for. The simple name sent a shock through him, and he read the section with a voracity that almost scared him.

_There's an innocence in all of us that dies. Some can point to the exact moment, while others don't even notice it's gone until far too late. For what, I can't say. But what I do know is that sometimes, when your innocence dies, a piece of your soul withers away._

_That was how it was with Leia. She was so deliciously empty, so wonderfully lost that I couldn't stop myself. I was smitten the moment those soulless eyes met mine._

Wufei stared at the book as if it had grown thorns and was raking his hands apart. "What the hell?" he muttered, frowning at the narration. What had happened during that third of the book to twist a young, intelligent boy into…this? He didn't even know what to call it. A thrilling horror was rushing through his veins at the passage, and his eyes read on, the words not truly registering until one single sentence leapt out at him.

_Within those empty smiles and eyes there was a grace I had never dreamed of seeing before. _

He stared, eyes wide, rereading the sentence over and over again, that sense of a terrifying beauty creeping up on him once more.

Maybe it was the lack of context, a part of his mind justified, and Wufei found himself nodding. Maybe it was so intoxicatingly chilling because he hadn't read almost a third of the book, and had only read a few pages in the first place. Shaking hands moved back to the opening pages, but his mind kept repeating the same word, the title screaming in his head.

In Search of Elegance. But what kind?

He needed out, Wufei decided. It was already one in the afternoon, and that was as good a reason as any to avoid the book for a little while. He could go to the 24-hour café across the street and get something to eat, and the only good thing about Thursday was their soup of the day, the one he could never remember the name of.

Deciding quickly that it was the best idea he'd had all day, Wufei grabbed his keys and walked out the door.

Then he remembered it was still raining, so he walked back in and grabbed his coat, and walked back out.

And then he remembered he'd need money to buy lunch, so he walked back in again and grabbed his wallet, and grabbed the book too because service was always a bit slow at the café anyway, and locked the door behind him.

Crossing the street was a messy business sometimes, but years of experience and hours of frustration paid off with a brisk stride across the pavement during the first tiny gap in traffic he saw, hugging the book to his chest and glaring death at the people staring at him from inside the café, their mugs of coffee (coffee was an always-drink in weather like this) paused in that strange area of unknown space between the table and their lips.

It was only when he stepped into the café and saw his reflection in the glass door – that of a soaked, book-hoarding young man wearing nothing but a ratty, comfortable tank top and pants loose enough that if he stepped on the cuffs they'd slide right off his hips.

Wufei didn't give a shit. He just wanted his damn soup and sandwich.

The hostess gave him a seat close to the kitchen's swinging door and he thanked her politely, pulling open the book and trying to find somewhere close to where he'd left off.

He found it easily enough and began reading, ordering his meal absently as he delved back into the novel.

_I distinctly recall the first day of school being painfully bland. Here, too, we were seated by social status, which left me practically wedged behind a column (which had the words 'Abandon All Hope Ye Who Sit Here' carved into the stonework). I couldn't see the board, and considering the lessons were things I could have taught two years previously, I didn't much mind. _

_For four hours, I sat in my secluded, blind seat. Since I couldn't see the board, I instead looked over my classmates. I studied them as they studied their arithmetic, I analyzed them as they learned extremely basic physics, I weighed their worth and value as they read through The Diary of Anne Frank. _

_Within four hours, I had already judged my classmates to the ultimate degree, using a set of criteria that simplify down to 1. Monetary Worth, 2. Emotional Stability (which was easily judged during the Anne Frank period of the day), 3. Intelligence, and 4. Social Status. _

_Now, I feel I must explain the difference between the Academy's definition of "Social Status" and my own. To the Academy, your social status was entirely determined by how much money your family had control of. My own definition was the influence one had over the rest of the student body. _

_Personally, I find my own definition to be far more important._

_My criteria had left me one specific individual to speak with during our lunch break – the only girl to not cry during Anne Frank (in fact, one of only four people to not do so), the only girl who had seemed just as bored yet informed as myself during the math and science portion of class, and one that sat close enough to the front of the room that I could easily ignore how she shied away from the other students. _

_At lunch (a lavish three-course meal, despite the fact we all sat at wooden tables on wooden benches), I approached her, introducing myself and smiling courteously, getting a better look at her features. _

_She was nervous, shy around just about everyone in the room, but smiled back. Her hair was a long, frizzled curtain of brown that was trying very hard to hide her eyes from the world. But as we spoke and she opened up, I could see the true Lady inside her, that she would become a strong, intelligent, capable woman if she took care of herself and stopped letting the others in the class taunt her about her hair. _

_Children, at that time, were a puzzle to me, and most especially the cruelty they showed to their peers. Petty taunts about my basement room and my (blessedly) unknown background did absolutely nothing to me, aside from bemusement concerning their lack of information on my past. On the other hand, my new friend, while unmoved by the plight of Anne Frank, could burst into tears at the right jab of criticism. _

_I decided that I would mold the young Lady known as Anne Une into the Lady Une that was begging to be revealed. And I decided this right at that very first lunch. _

_After lunch, the class was told something very important. It was only the first-years that were ranked by how much the Academy had been paid for tuition. After the first year's first quarter, everything would be based on rank – the best grades received the best PE equipment and was served food first, the best in PE received the best desk in class, and lodging would be decided by an unknown criteria they would find out in their next year, when rooms were changed about. _

_That announcement was the beginning of absolutely everything._

"Soup?"

Wufei blinked, started by the word as he looked up from the book to see a waitress smiling tensely at him, soup and sandwich in hand.

"That's mine, yes," Wufei said, clearing his throat and carefully putting the book aside as the steaming bowl was set in front of him.

"I'd been wondering if it really was," the waitress sighed, refilling his glass of water while she was at it. "I've been trying to get your attention for nearly five minutes. Must be a hell of a book."

Wufei blinked, his mind abandoning him just at the thought of ignoring his soup for five minutes in favor of the book. It was good soup. It was his _favorite_ soup.

The waitress smiled again and left Wufei to glare at his soup and sandwich. When he felt like most of the rage – WHY did this book ALWAYS do this to him?! It was enough to make someone go insane! – he scarfed down the food, for once ignoring good manners.

It was for a good cause though, Wufei told himself as he paid for his lunch and buttoned up his coat, _In Search Of Elegance_ again cradled against his chest in a hug of death. Strangling some answers out of Quatre Winner trumped decorum any day.

---

A/N: And that's Chapter 2! Better short-ish than never, eh?

**Update Bandit strikes again! **Hopefully I'll get to most everything else this November too! Keep those fingers crossed!


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